


rationally and equally aligned

by N313



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Banter, Character Study, Freeform, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Tanker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N313/pseuds/N313
Summary: "I know you’re confident enough in your skills as a soldier, and an infiltrator, all that good stuff, but you’re kind of shit at trusting people, y’know?"





	rationally and equally aligned

**Author's Note:**

> just a brief 1k pre-snot character study. very flawed and written at 3am. i know nothing about hacking, let it be known

“That doesn’t--”

He was interrupted with an abrupt, humorless peal of laughter. “Yeah, no, absolutely not. It doesn’t check out by any means, with even the most elastic imagination.”

“Not remotely.” Snake shook his head and shifted on his feet, unease pricking somewhere in his spine. “Glad to know I’m not just being paranoid.”

“Nah, not this time. I’d tell you if I thought otherwise.”

“No shit.”

This elicited another chuckle from Otacon, with a modicum of sincerity now. It was a decent helping, really, circumstances considered. “I’m pretty sure you need me there to remind you on occasion. You can get real caught up in your own head sometimes, you know it?” Snake squinted, opening his mouth for a retort, but the hacker was quicker on the draw. “Relax. Or...don’t, honestly. No one ever got anything done by being cocky.”

“I’m going to need a citation on that one,” he returned drily.

“Okay, okay, let me rephrase: No one ever got anything done _twice_ by being cocky.”

Pondering that, Snake leaned his shoulder against the wall, and took a moment to fish out a cigarette, take it gingerly in the corner of his mouth, and light it. “Most people aren’t cocky on the first shot,” he grunted after a lengthy drag.

His partner groaned from the chair and buried his head in his hands, massaging his temples. “I’m not going to argue semantics,” he snapped. “I’m just saying that going into something with too much cocksurety is asking for trouble.”

“Once again, no shit.” He suppressed a grin as Otacon leaned backward, emitting another frustrated sound. He couldn’t see it, but he could practically hear the other’s eyes rolling in their sockets.

 _“Anyway,_ we’re getting tangential. There needs to be balance, that was my point.”

“Balance?”

“Between certainty and uncertainty. I know you’re confident enough in your skills as a soldier, and an infiltrator, all that good stuff, but you’re kind of shit at trusting people, y’know? There’s got to be a healthy medium.”

“Yeah,” Snake snorted, “like you’re the leading lecturer on what’s healthy.”

Otacon actually rotated the desk chair around now, pinning him with a stern look--or, at least, it looked as though it was intended to be stern. In practice it just looked like he was pouting. Regardless, he managed to hold it for a lingering moment before he dropped the stink-eye and exhaled defeatedly. The chair swiveled again, returning to its former position, silhouetted in front of the screen. “You’re an ass.”

“Last time I checked, I was a--”

 _“Yeah_ , I get it. A legless reptile, not a donkey. Very funny. Maybe we should quit our jobs and become, what, a joint comedian-lecturer act?”

“We’d probably be paid better.”

“We’d be paid jack shit, Snake.”

“I don’t see how that conflicts with my statement.”

Otacon scoffed. “Since when do you care about money?”

“If I did, I’d be a comedian instead.” He paused to take a thoughtful puff on his cigarette. “I like to think I’ve got my priorities straight, though, so don’t worry about it.”

“Well, don’t discount funding entirely. Running an NGO isn’t exactly free.”

“It’d be a lot easier if you approved of wetwork.”

“We’re not paying the bills of an organization intended to help people by killing people.”

“It’s not like we’ve got clean noses in the eyes of anyone these days.”

Aside from his partner’s surge of irritable clacking at the keyboard, he received no reply for what seemed like minutes. He finished off his smoke and tugged out another in the protracted non-silence. “Being branded as terrorists doesn’t mean we can act like terrorists,” Otacon finally muttered, fingers still moving as he leaned closer to the monitor.

The response struck Snake as being a tad tetchier than was warranted, but he’d never claimed to understand the guy’s precise perspective. “Then don’t complain about our funding.”

“Whatever. The point’s been lost in the sands of time anyway.”

It was fairly clear that the legless reptile had struck a nerve. Legless as well as tactless, evidently. He decided against prying, and opted instead for a change of subject. “So, it looks like someone’s been trying to mix up the trail, huh?”

“Yeah, definitely. Muddying the waters with false intel would’ve worked better if they’d stirred it up while we were already downstream, though.”

“Most likely.” Chewing the filter, Snake pressed a bit more heavily into the wall. “Too bad we’re not that stupid.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that it’s a byproduct of our intellect, really. The real defining factor is that our alleged ‘informant’ left footprints.” He maximized a window and angled the monitor for visibility. “A lot of footprints.”

Snake leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher what exactly he was looking at. “Footprints being...emails?” he ventured.

“A metric shit-ton of emails, yes.” Otacon pulled up a hand and mimed some finger quotes. “‘Classified’ emails, through ‘secure’ channels, harboring a payload of ‘encrypted’ data, among other things.”

“...right. But nothing’s ever classified.”

The hacker tapped his temple and offered a crooked smile. “Bingo. This guy reeks of Patriotism, and I’ve seen his buddies’ contact info floating around, too. Loads of friendly faces.”

“Could’ve told you that from the offset. Anonymous intel is dangerous intel.”

“Especially when it’s as much of a carrot as we were purportedly being offered. Luckily, like you said, we’re not complete morons.” Otacon turned the monitor again and shook his head. “If it sounds too good to be true, chances are, it is.”

Snake peeled himself away from the wall, offering his partner a lazy pat on the shoulder. “And you tell me I worry too much.”

He did, indeed, roll his eyes this time. It was obvious even in the minimal luminescence of the screen. “You absolutely worry too much. Have a little faith in me, if nothing else.”

“That’s a tall order, Otacon.”

“Yeah, well, I trust you. What was that thing they said? About you being ‘the man who makes the impossible’--”

Snake grimaced and turned about-face to make a beeline for the door. “I’m going to bed.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite, I hear they find gods among men to be pretty tasty.”

“Then I should be fine.”

Otacon’s laughter was audible as he shut the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm planning on pursuing the...universe...? of this fic, in a much longer fic, which i'm working on outlining right now with the help of a real good buddy. so if you liked this there's probably going to be a LOT more where it came from lol. slowburn ahoy


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